One Last Option, One Last Chance
by scurvaliciousbay
Summary: How Trespasser (SPOILERS) should have ended. Lavellan may be dying, but she is not letting Solas walk away again. Tried to make Lavellan as non-specific as possible. Rated for language and smut.


**One Last Option, One Last Chance**

He leaned in, eyes closing bitterly as he pressed his lips against hers. He had called her 'vhenan' over and over again, she had responded in kind. She had tried to reason with him even while the Anchor blazed on her hand, fire wrapping itself around her bones, warping her hand. But she had persisted. She had begged, pleaded with him to see reason, and still he believed that the only way forward was to _burn the world_. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't allow him to become a monster, he would never forgive himself…also the world, that shit just couldn't burn down, especially since _she had just saved the damn thing three times over!_

His lips were soft on hers, just as she had remembered. There was no tongue this time though, which was a damn shame. She had always adored his tongue. But there were more important things to focus on, like palming the rock in her right hand. Solas began to pull away, eyes still hooded in regret. She kept her face in the same sorrowful expression as she brought the rock in her right hand up. The rock struck his head and he collapsed forward, knocked out. _Oh thank goodness!_ She hadn't known for sure if she could knock him out, but it had been worth a try.

At that moment the Eluvian behind her fizzled as her companions came through.

"OH SHIT!" Bull cried as he saw the unfortunate Qunari Solas had turned to stone.

"Inquisitor? Inquisitor!" Cassandra called as she spotted Lavellan lying on the ground. The Mark flared again and this time she couldn't hold the scream back.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" She swore as her companions joined her. The Mark was getting worse, she could feel the magic trying to creep up her arm in a bid to consume her.

"Is that Solas?" Dorian asked as he crouched next to Lavellan, stripping her arm of armor to get a look at the damage being done to her.

"Cassandra, please drain Solas of his mana, and if he starts to wake up, knock him out again," the elf instructed the Seeker who blessedly did not ask questions and just acted. Solas's body jerked as his magic was depleted but Lavellan couldn't concern herself with that. _It's for his own good…and everybody else's._

"There is no way to save you and your arm, Lavellan, I…I am sorry," Dorian said and Lavellan nodded, understanding.

"Then the arm goes." She said, resolved. She wouldn't be able to fight as she used to, but she would be alive and that was what mattered. Bull approached her and brought out a leather strip from his pack. He stuffed the leather into Lavellan's mouth, clearly knowing what to do. He shooed Dorian away from her arm and held his hand out for Cassandra's sword. She parted with the blade readily. In Bull's hand the sword looked more like a glorified butcher knife, _don't think about that._ Lavellan chided herself.

"Boss, you don't want to look," Bull said and she obliged, looking to the currently rousing Solas.

"O'sssss!" She tried to say something but only a muffled sound came out. Cassandra thankfully seemed to understand however. She swiftly punched Solas and the man stopped rousing. Satisfied that Solas was taken care of –

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She screamed through the leather gag. Bull had brought down the sword, severing her arm just below her elbow. Her heart pounded as she instinctively writhed only to find that Dorian was holding her down. He put those muscles he worked so hard on to good use as he controlled her from flailing.

"Dorian, you need to cauterize the wound," Bull was saying as he began to tie a tourniquet around Lavellan's upper arm. MORE PAIN. FUCK! SHIT! DAMN! MOTHER SHITTING FUCKER DAMMIT! She sobbed and screamed through the leather, needing the ceaseless pain to end.

"There, now dress it and let's get out of here!" Dorian said, or at least, Lavellan thought he said that. There were black spots at the edges of her vision and she couldn't really hear anything. The leather was removed from her mouth and she managed to say one thing before she passed out.

"Take my arm…please," and then she was out.

* * *

She woke without pain. That hadn't happened in…what? Two years? The pain had started up right around after Corypheus had been dealt with, though the pain was more like a dull ache and less of an engulfing inferno like it had been towards the end. But waking without pain also meant that she woke without feeling her left hand…because it wasn't there.

She sat up as much as she could to look at what remained of her arm. It was all normal until it got to the white bandaging around her elbow and about two inches below…well that's where her arm stopped. No forearm, no hand, no wrist, or fingers or pretty nails to paint. No Mark. She leaned back into the cot and brought her right hand up to rub her brow.

Fuck.

Inquisitor Lavellan, once the bearer of Fen'Fucking'Harel's Mark, now the one armed wonder! But she was alive, and that meant she had a duty to do. With great effort and some pain, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the cot. She hissed when her feet hit the cold stone but she stepped forward anyways…only to find that her legs could barely support her. She stumbled forward and threw her arms onto the cart next to the cart in a bid to remain stable.

Shit.

The door to her room, or makeshift infirmary, opened and a healer walked in. She gasped and just about dropped the box of goods she was carrying when she saw Lavellan standing.

"What are you doing out of bed?! Maker, lie back down! We have to redress your wound!" The healer fussed over Lavellan until the elf made her way back to the cot grumbling meek protests.

"I need to-

"Rest! You lost a limb and there are a thousand things that can go wrong with in field amputations, you are lucky that the Iron Bull knew to sanitize the blade and cauterize the wound. Probably would be sick with sepsis by now without that," the woman opened up her box of…healer things, then began to undress Lavellan's arm.

"Yeah…lucky," Lavellan muttered as the healer unwrapped the wound. The last bit stuck and she hissed as the healer removed it.

"Shit! That hurts!" She growled and the healer sighed.

"Yes, but that goo is a good sign actually of healing," the healer then grabbed a tool that looked like a scarier version of tweezers.

"Has…has he woken up?" Lavellan asked, trying to distract herself from the pain lancing up from the healer picking at the wound.

"Solas? Yes, Templars have been stationed at his cell and have been draining his mana every so often."

"You shouldn't, AH! Watch it!"

"Have to, my lady, necrotic flesh is not good for the healing."

"As I was saying, you don't need to be constantly draining him if he is in a cell-

"Actually we do, he almost blew the entire cell up in an escape attempt. We were lucky that we had a couple of Templars stationed at his cell to stop the attempt." Lavellan sighed, of course he tried to escape. She wished she could have been there when he had awoken, maybe she could have prevented him from raging against the restraints that he must be hating right now.

"If I may…he also believes you dead, Lady Cassandra is content to let him believe that until you decide what you want to do," oh bless the Seeker, she was always clever when it came to shit like this.

"That works well, actually, how is the Exalted Council?" That question earned an hour long explanation on how the Orlesians were coming around to the Ferelden stance that the Inquisition should be disbanded. Lavellan had to agree with them. It was clear to her that the corruption and the infiltration that the Inquisition would face would only hinder its operations or whatever course she would navigate for them.

"DAMMIT WOMAN ARE YOU TRYING TO AMPUTATE MORE?!"

"Calm down, Inquisitor!"

"I LOST AN ARM! THE TIME FOR CALM IS OVER!"

* * *

Solas woke in a cell. By holding cell standards, it was actually fairly nice. The stones were even and without cracks. The steel bars were shiny and there were no blood stains on the walls or floor, and there was even a cot for him to rest on. Rest was the farthest thing from his mind, though as he stared hatefully at the Templars. He hated them. He hated this world. But it was not hate that filled him, it was sorrow, it was loss. He no longer felt her heartbeat through the Mark, could feel her lifelessness as if it were a tangible shadow and it tormented him. Tormented him more than the knowledge that she had somehow knocked him out and had kept him sedated long enough for him to end up in captivity.

He should be angry. He should _furious_ with her. But all he could feel was regret at not being able to save her. He wanted to create a world not just for the Elvhen people, but for her too. He wanted her to be happy, immortal, imbued with the magic of old. But now she was gone, like so many other things he had loved…gone. Irreplaceable. His heart ached with the loss, more keenly than when he lost wisdom, more poignantly than when the empire had fallen. She was dead, and he had willingly done _nothing_ _to stop it._

Solas rubbed his face and leaned against the wall. He hadn't believed himself a monster, he was a man with a goal of saving his people…but now? He had sacrificed the woman he loved for his own ends. He had sacrificed a woman who had done so much to save this current world, to preserve life…and for what? A _chance_ that he was restoring his, _their_ , people? When would the sacrifices end? Children? Mass graves for the thousands he would condemn just to save the possibility of his people returning to their former glory?

Doubt seeped into him, poisoning his goal. Fenhedis. No, it was worth it. For every Elvhen child born with a strong connection to the Fade, for every scrap of former glory reclaimed, he would thank her. Lavellan would be his flame, his drive to make sure her sacrifice was worth it. He would do it for her, because he could no longer do it for him or for the faceless thousands of elves he claimed to represent. It was her face, her lips, ears, eyes that plagued and blessed him at the same time as he sat in that immaculate cell.

She was beauty. She was light. He would erect a building or ten for her. He would paint her over and over again so the People would know who had died for them, the woman that had done so much for so little. That had loved the Dread Wolf, no…she had loved Solas. She loved the man that he was, not the man his people believed or wanted him to be. She had loved the man who preferred to read a book than interact with a room full of people, but at the same time could navigate the Winter Palace with grace and ease. She had loved Solas, the quiet painter in her rotunda that liked little Orlesian cakes. She had loved the man who held her hand even as he had broken her heart.

Dead. Gone. That was all he could think of, all he could feel.

The main door to the area opened with a clang and shudder. Solas did not open his eyes. They had probably found one of his agents and wanted to imprison them. There was nothing he could do, the Templars would see to that.

Soft footsteps that could only belong to an elf filled the space, then the steps stopped. Clanging keys began to unlock _his_ cell and he opened his eyes…to see her. She was alive. She was there, standing before him in her red uniform, a blue cape wrapped around her. She had bathed recently, the scent of her preferred bath oils seemed to fill the space, soft…elegant, _her._ His heart swelled as she stepped into the cell.

"Vhenan," he found himself whispering in shock and relief. _She was alive._ She held a long rectangular box in her right hand, knuckles white from the grip.

"I have an Exalted Council to get to, but I wanted to stop by and give you gift." She turned from him, handing the box to an ill looking Templar. She opened the box and pulled something out of it. He tried to see, but her frame and the cape shielded his view. She then turned to him and strode forward, her face blank. Whatever she had pulled out of the box was wrapped in white muslin, still hidden from his view.

"No one told me-

"You wanted the Mark? Here it is," she didn't let him finish as she held the muslin in her hand and jerked, allowing the object tumble out and into his lap. He couldn't help the small gasp and flinch as her dead arm and hand with an equally dead Mark landed in his lap.

She turned without a sound and walked out of his cell, the Templar locking the door back into place as she left him with the remnants of his plans. It took him a moment to stand up, the arm falling to the ground in a macabre fashion, and jump to the door where he tried to watch her leave.

He could scarcely believe it. She had played him. This mortal woman, whom he had deemed a savage, a product of misguidance and misinformation, had actually _played_ him.

Against what he knew what was best, he smiled as pride filled him.

 _Vhenan._ His heart was just as cunning and wondrous as ever.

* * *

She felt like quite the badass after that little display, even more so when she dropped another gift off at the Exalted Council. She was just dropping gattlok right and left. HA! Left! Oh she cracked herself up sometimes. On her way back to her chambers, she informed the Templars that she wanted Solas escorted up to the room where prisoners of state were kept. It was the only bedroom in the Winter Palace that had no windows or secret entrances and exits, only a door that had numerous locks. It was also a magically reinforced chamber that Dorian had agreed to have beefed up.

It was time she and her wolfy love had a heart to heart and actually fucking communicated. His explanation of what had happened was a fantastic start, but if they were going to move forward, she needed more, he needed a plan, and she could provide it all.

 _I am a badass, Thedas, look out._

Once she reached her chambers, she changed into a more comfortable outfit of black leggings, a white, form-fitting tunic with blue trim, and an old Dalish necklace her Keeper had given her before she had left for the conclave. She wrapped her feet then left for the chamber.

It was a short walk, but it gave her enough time to suddenly be full of dread. What if he didn't listen? What if he still raved about ending the world for the next one? _What if he didn't actually love me?_ It was a silly thing to worry about when the world was at stake, but it was still there…sitting like a smirking fox…or wolf. Shit.

She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it out in a nervous gesture. She stopped before the chamber and saw that there was only one Templar present.

"Where are the others?" She asked, worried.

"Bringing him up now, your Worship," the man replied and she nodded her thanks. He opened the chamber for her and she entered. The place was lit with candles, shadows playing in odd shapes throughout the space. There was a great bed with fine sheets and a nice gold gilded headboard. There was a desk, a chair…and a large fireplace. She wrinkled her nose, she thought this place was secure, the presence of a fireplace made that statement false, you could crawl up or down the chimney.

She knocked on the door, "Post three guards, don't have to be Templars, on the roof where the chimney for the fireplace is." The Templar grunted his understanding and she returned to surveying the room. Two bookshelves framed the fireplace, and she wondered what kind of books lined the shelves. Maybe about repenting about your sins and your crimes. Maybe filthy romance novels that Cassandra liked so much. Unfortunately, none of the titles were in Common or Elven, just overly frilly Orlesian.

She was examining the bookshelves when the door rattled and opened.

"Comtess Lavellan is waiting for you," the Templar growled, using her recently acquired title. _Thank you Varric, you magnificent dwarf._ Solas entered the room elegantly…because he is Solas, and clumsiness is beneath him. _Ass._

"Comtess? That one is new," he commented as he quickly took in the room. She shrugged and moved away from the bookshelves to walk alongside the far wall.

"Just another title to add to the pile."

"It seems you enjoy collecting them," he moved to where had standing previously at the fireplace. He ran a hand across the stone and she narrowed her eyes.

"There are guards at the chimney," she said and he smiled. Dammit, she forgot how wonderful that smile was. Look away.

"Of course, but they would not be able to stop me if I truly wished to escape."

"Fine, there are Templars that will drain you before you are even able to reach the guards." Suck it mage elf wolf person…thing. Yeah. He turned to her and closed the distance between them, his eyes for some reason bright with mischief.

"I cannot truly be drained, vhenan, I played at that to lull everyone into a sense of control," damn him and his old elfiness and connection to the Fade. But wait…if he couldn't…

"Why didn't you escape then? The healer told me-

"I wanted to see the defensive measure taken to keep me here, then plan accordingly," he stated, shrugging. She narrowed her eyes then laughter began to bubble up. It started with a snort, then her shoulders were shaking, and then she was in a full blown guffaw that had Solas scowling.

"And what are you laughing at this time?"

"You! Planning! Ahahahahaha! Oh that is rich! That is so _fucking rich!_ " She laughed hard, leaning back as her hand clutched her stomach.

"I fail to see the humor in the situation, vhenan," he growled and she just rolled her eyes.

"Of course you do," she laughed some more and he continued to scowl, adding crossed arms and a 'I am displeased with your actions' stance that was so quintessential Solas that she just laughed even harder. When her laughter finally died down and she caught her breath, she smiled and brought her hand up to his face.

"Oh, ma lath, you try so hard….but your plans suck," she stroked his cheek and for a split second his eyes fluttered in pleasure. Then they opened and he scowled even more deeply. _Level up, point to Scowl._

"Excuse me?" He said and she sighed.

"Oh honey, sit your poor misguided ass down and listen," she backed him up to a chair. He obliged her and sat, but that scowl and disapproving glint in his eyes were still there.

"Think, you create the Veil for vengeance."

"Punishment for _murder_ , it was no less than what they deserved."

"Yes, they deserve punishment, but creating the Veil punished more than just the Evanuris, it _destroyed everything._ It was like imprisoning a parent who had abused their children then killing the children too!"

"It seemed the only way at the time."

"Exactly! You rushed head first into the first dramatic option without thinking things through. If you had stopped, thought, regained your breath, you would have found there were other options."

"You. Were. Not. There. You have no authority to say there were other options if you do not know the situation."

"True, I wasn't there, thank Mythal. But I now I know your M.O. and, love, that is _exactly_ what happened. Tell me it's not true." He was about to respond, bite out the words to say no, there were no other options, but he stopped. It would have been a lie, and he was done lying to her. He turned his gaze away.

"Yeah, just what a thought. Then after waking up for Mythal knows how long, after seeing the world behaving in a way that you did not want, that you hated, you dove into the most dramatic and readily available option _again._ Tear down the Veil! Can't activate the orb, need the orb…this crazy motherfucker should be able to do it, here, crazy motherfucker, be a good chap and activate this for me?"

"One, my agents gave my orb to Corypheus, not me. Two, I never thought that he would actually be able to activate it, let alone survive-

"There it is! You never think these things through! If you had just stopped to realize that whatever Corypheus couldn't _naturally_ achieve, he would use other methods to achieve. Whether those methods include blood magic or red lyrium or _both_ , he was evil and crazy, but he was resourceful. A trait that he was able to exploit over you who was still scrambling to know how to use magic in this new world where magic for a large part had been sealed away." His eyes widened at her analysis.

"I never told you that…"

"I inferred, because I think about these things. I think about how Corypheus could have beaten the Dread Wolf in a game of wits and magic. I think about how the Dread Wolf, who had worked tirelessly to help people, will so easily cast people aside for a dramatic solution that may not even work. I think about how I can stop the Dread Wolf from becoming the monster the Dalish deem him. I think about how I can save this wolf from your plans." She paused and turned away from him, knowing that her emotions were trying to get the better of her. Before he could respond she turned back to him, an emotionless expression on her face in place. _Thank you Bull for teaching me._

"Your dramatic, short-sighted plans have long-lasting, catastrophic consequences for the rest of us."

"And what would you have me do? I cannot simply sit back here watching our people wither and die, separated from what makes them what they are!"

"I never said you should. But while _you_ suck at planning, I happen to be pretty damn good at it. So listen up, wolf boy." She walked to the desk where a map of Thedas lay. After remaining seated in a drawn out, appropriately broody silence, he begrudgingly joined her. He kept up the scowl, though.

"Yes, let us listen to the _master_ of planning, she who thought a pink scarf would go well with a green tunic," Solas grumbled.

"I rocked that outfit!"

"You were a hot mess," he teased and she rolled her eyes.

"Better to be hot than not," she quipped back and the familiar flirting look they had shared so many times returned. It made her blush, still, and her stomach flip. He shouldn't be affecting her this way, he had just tried to defend himself why he wanted to _destroy the world._ Yes but…he was Solas. The man who loved to dance in the Fade when he thought no one was watching. The man who had kissed her when she said that she wanted to go to Tevinter and start a mass elven rebellion. The man who had secretly read all of Cassandra's naughty books and enjoyed them.

"Anyways! Back to planning. I have been thinking about how to have the best of both worlds," she paused waiting for him to sigh at the pun. He didn't. Whatever.

"And I was wondering if we could weaken the Veil over time, then tear it strategic places, creating pockets where this world and the Fade coexist."

"Why not just tear it in those places in the first place? I am eager to see our people restored, vhenan."

"To get the spirits and demons slowly accustomed to this world again. You said once that this word drives them crazy and has a propensity to turn perfectly content spirits into demons because they simply cannot handle it. If we just open the Veil like Corypheus, we will be ass deep in demons forever because the spirits would not be able to _not_ become demons. You would be sacrificing not just humans, dwarves, and qunari…you would be sacrificing spirits too." Solas's eyes widened and he staggered back for a second, as if now just comprehending what he was planning to do.

"I…I would destroy them all…." He muttered and she nodded grimly.

"Not if I can do anything about it. We weaken the Veil, which will allow the spirits to become more acquainted with this world, they will be stronger and be able to not become demons." That simple solution, taking his time…it would save an entire people he wanted to save that he had not even realized he would be sacrificing for the Elvhen.

"Vhenan…"

"Not done yet, you can declare your adoration after I am done. Next, we open the pockets, and we can do that over places like the Western Approach and the forest of Arlathan, places that aren't really inhabited at all right now. We can bring old structures, such as the Vir Dirthara through and build them back up there. Also, the Anderfels, Hawke writes and says the place is barren and the people there should just join the rest of the world anyways. We could open the Veil there, and then-" she didn't finish her sentence, for Solas's mouth was over hers. He kissed her until her knees went weak and her hand rested on his chest. She kissed him back, not wanting to let it end. Their kiss in the gully before had been full of sorrow and resignation…this kiss was thanks, this kiss was life and joy and ugh, _tongue._

Solas's tongue swept into her mouth, rubbing against her own. She had missed this so much. Missed him. Her hand went up to his ear where she stroked. Elves' ears were sensitiv, but Solas was particularly aroused by touches there. She rubbed and flicked over the shell and he groaned into her mouth. He moved his mouth from hers to kiss down to her neck.

"I said, you could express…your adoration…after," she exclaimed playfully as he sucked on her neck.

"Forgive me…I was overwhelmed by your planning skills," he murmured against her skin and she laughed.

"You're forgiven," she replied only to realize the weight of her words after she had said them. _Forgiven._ Was he though? He had been gone for two years, no word, nothing…just…gone.

"Solas? Why…why didn't you just tell me?" She asked quietly. He stilled against her then sighed as he pulled away.

"Because I knew you would want to stop me. Because I thought you would not understand. Because I thought there was no other option. I wanted to spare you from seeing what I must do, what I _thought_ I must do." He explained and she sighed.

"It _hurt,_ Solas. You took my Vallaslin, you broke my heart, and when you left…it was like you took my heart with you." She murmured, the old pain coiling around her heart. _Go away, you slithering bastard, he is here…and we are going to snog, so ha!_ He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Ir abelas, vhenan. I never wanted to hurt you. I…I never thought I would meet someone so compelling, so beautiful…I never thought I would fall in love, especially with a little Dalish girl with a smart mouth and even smarter ass." His hand suddenly dipped down and squeezed her butt appreciatively. She squeaked in surprise and he laughed low in his throat. She playfully smacked his chest but smiled broadly.

"So basically, you're saying you suck at planning?" She asked. He laughed more and gripped her hips, pulling her to him.

"Basically," he whispered before he kissed her again. Oh she would never get tired of this. But she had another question, so she pulled away, her eyes suddenly serious.

"Did you miss me?" She asked, needing to know. He cupped her face and smiled bitterly.

"Every day, every night, every dream, I missed you." Their eyes met and his conveyed all the love and all the regret he felt. It was too much. Chasing after him, thinking he might die, seeing him, _her_ almost dying, hearing his plan, changing his mind, hearing this…it was too much. All the emotions she had suppressed for the past couple days came rushing forward in the only way it could. Tears. Fucking tears. _Mythal enaste, I am pathetic._

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, her chest heaved and soon she was in full blown sobs. Her face fell from his hands to land on his chest where she promptly buried her sobs into the fur that was still draped across his torso. It was itchy and not as soft as it looked but it she couldn't move as Solas wrapped arms around her and held her as she sobbed.

"I….I…I missed you too!" She sobbed into his chest. His arms tightened around her, cradling her head. She finally looked up at him, her face red, her liner smeared across her cheeks, and her nose running.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," she whispered and his lips curved into a smile that was equal parts heartbreaking and loving.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," he whispered back before bending his down to kiss her. Warmth spread throughout her body, lifting her spirits and replacing all the fear and negative emotion from the past couple of days with the love she had been so desperate to feel since the defeat of Corypheus. Shit, since that Gods forsaken grotto.

His hands roamed her body as his mouth plundered hers. Tongues rubbing against each other once more, but this time she was more active. She rubbed back against his tongue, pressed her body into his hands and made sounds of approval as he touched her.

"Solas!" she groaned as he broke away to breathe.

"There are no false pretenses now, I know who you are. You're Fen'Harel, Dread Wolf, yadda yadda," she babbled and he nodded against her neck, laving at her sensitive skin.

"Yes."

"Then, we should, I mean, that is, um…"

"Vhenan, what is it you want?" He knew, damn him, he knew what she wanted and he wanted to hear her say it. Dammit she loved this man. She pulled away from him to look up into his eyes. In her best attempt to be like the women in those books he secretly loved so much she sighed and batted her eyelashes.

"Oh Dread Wolf take me!" She cried and he…laughed. Actually laughed! It was music to her ears. He kissed her then, hard and fast before pulling away to whisper/growl in her ear.

"Ma nuveinen." He kissed her with all the passion of the past three years, the heat that they had both felt denying themselves over and over again as they courted in Skyhold.

"Say you want me, please," she needed to hear him say that he wanted her, that he was not doing this for her, but for the both of them.

"I want you, have always wanted you, will always want you." He sucked on her ear and her toes curled into the fur rug beneath them. Her hand gripped his shoulder with a vengeance, her back arching.

"Then take me…to the bed…" she half demanded half asked. Solas laughed (growled? It was very gravelly, very _hot_ , whatever the sound was), moved his hands to her butt and lifted her up. Her legs instinctively went around his waist on a startled gasp. He kissed her, laid her on the bed, and promptly climbed on top of her.

As they stripped each other, eager to touch flesh, emotions burned within her. She had waited for this for too long, had needed him, _craved_ him, for so long. This was not going to last long…at least on her part.

Why was he wearing so many layers? After what seemed the millionth tunic, Solas was finally shirtless. She had seen him without a shirt before, a sight she had burned into her memory that she thought about more than was healthy, but the man must have lifted weights or something in the past two years because _damn._ He was ripped!

"When did _this_ happen?" She asked, eagerly touching his rippling skin. An abdominal muscle fluttered and she gave an internal squeal. Hot damn.

"This world relies more on physical strength than on magical…I had to adapt," he explained rather clinically. He could be as clinical as he wanted, the end result was fabulous. She ran her hand up his chest, rubbing his skin, loving the feel. He shuddered above her and leaned so that his mouth was back at her neck. _I am going to be_ covered _in hickeys._ The idea thrilled her.

His own hands were not idle. They grabbed the hem of her tunic and pulled up. After her shirt was gone, he stripped her of her leggings and foot wraps. Soon she was lying naked before him. He leaned back, staring at her, drinking in her nude form. Normally she was confident in her body, she was pretty and she knew it. Solas had frequently told her how absolutely beautiful he found her, but that was before…when she had an arm. She couldn't meet his eyes, a blush coloring her skin as she stared into her right shoulder.

Solas gently took her face in his hands again, turning her head so that she had to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were tender and full of love.

"You are so beautiful," he kissed her, then moved only a hair away, "you are perfect." His lips returned to hers and she sighed, allowing herself to relax and be pushed into the soft bed. Their bare skin was finally touching, rubbing. Hands explored, touched, rubbed, and appreciated whatever they landed on. Solas paid special attention to her breasts, cupping, gently squeezing her supple flesh. Fingers gently pinched and rolled her nipples, eliciting happy mewls of pleasure from her.

"Solas," she groaned as his hips arched, pressing his pelvis against hers. He ground his hard arousal, which was still tucked into tight leather breeches, against her.

"Take. Off. Your. Pants." She growled into his mouth and he laughed.

"As you wish, vhenan," he removed himself from her and she whined at the loss. He arched a playful brow as he slowly dragged his leggings down his legs. Of course he would make this more dramatic than it had – OH! Hello!

She sat up as his arousal sprang, and she meant _sprang_ , free. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped a bit and she suddenly felt very, _very_ small….but also extraordinarily aroused.

"Like what you see, vhenan?" Solas teased and she slowly dragged her eyes up to his.

"I am…seriously pissed, I mean, you say you love me and yet you kept _this_ from me for that entire time we were together!" She teased right back. He rolled his eyes as he crawled back on top of her.

"I do love you," he said, kissing her again, pressing her into the mattress, covering her body completely. He shifted his hips so that they rested between hers, but he didn't press into her. Instead, his hand drifted between their bodies to her sex. The first touch felt like lightning coursing through her body, the energy then pooling in a hot, agitated mess where his fingers played.

"Save the magic for next time!" She cried, grinding into his hand.

"No magic, vhenan, I am just that good."

"Fucking…arrogant man…" she groaned as he thrummed her clit.

"You're about to," he replied. She would have laughed at his sass if a moan at him inserting a finger into her hadn't cut her off. Her hips canted on their own volition, greedy for Solas. It seemed her entire body was greedy for her rebel wolf, her harellan. His mouth found hers, swallowing her cries as she thrust in time with his fingers. Their tongues clashed as she desperately sought release. Heat and pressure built up in her loins, her muscles clenching, toes curling, back arching as she came.

Solas continued to swallow her incoherent cries, and she took in his own moans at feeling her clench and spasm around him. They rode out her orgasm like this, mouths locked as her moans and spasms ricocheted through them.

He removed his hand as he felt her begin to come down from the high. He then kneeled properly between her legs, obviously positioning himself. He didn't move, however, just made heated eye contact with her.

"Are you ready?" Solas asked and she smiled, playfully rolling her eyes.

"I mean, come on, Solas, live up to that curse – OH!" He thrust into her, cutting her off mid-sentence. She felt a low rumble of laughter in his chest then he kissed her briefly.

"You talk too much," he muttered as he moved to seat himself deeper within her. The man was big, wonderfully so, but still, it had been a while for her. It hurt a bit, but in a delicious, searing kind of way that just made her arch her back so that he could go deeper. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her hand held onto the nape of his neck.

Once he was fully inside of her, her toes curled and she moaned.

"Solas, _yes_ ," his hand found hers, removing it from his neck to bring it over her head. He held it there, fingers laced intimately as he kissed her face. His knees sunk into the mattress as he levered himself out, then thrust back in. Her head fell back, eyes sliding closed as he set a delicious pace. It was not fast, it was not slow. It was precise and full of love, just like him. Just like their messed up relationship. It was not rough, it was not gentle. It was passionate and honest. Just what they needed, what they craved.

His body ground against hers, delicious heat and pleasure firing off inside of her, centered around where they were joined. The man clearly knew what he was doing, making her feel just desperate enough to try to press closer, but pleasured enough to allow him control. _Fuck. Yes. Solas._

Their lips locked and their bodies communicated every feeling. Her fear, his self-deprecation, her self-consciousness, his worry, her concern. But most of all their bodies murmured praises, little snippets of love and adoration to each other. _I love you. I can't live without you. You mean the world to me. Never let me go._

Hips joined and canting together as they moved in an ageless dance. He thrust into her and she received him gladly, moving in time. Their mouths, tongues, danced along, adding another dimension to the dance. Through it all, even as the beat sped up as they rushed to the finish, to the grand crescendo, muscles tightening, fluids rushing, their hands remained locked together. _I will never let you go._

* * *

She woke up utterly spent. Her bones felt like mush, her skin prickling from over stimulation. And she wouldn't have it any other way. Solas was currently naked, wrapped around her body, his hand still holding hers in front of hers. Solas, the Dread Wolf, fantastic dancer and lover, and apparently amazing at spooning. She leaned further into the embrace, earning a happy snort from the man. She somehow repressed a giggle at the noise. He didn't snore, per se, but made these little snuffling noises. They were adorable.

Solas pressed back into her, his body moving with a purpose that indicated that he was awake, or at least rousing. She shifted so that she lie on her back, gazing at his sleepy face. Ugh, sleepy Solas was so freaking cute. On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his nose. It wrinkled in response, then he turned his face to nuzzle into the pillow.

"Oh, you are just so adorable," she cooed and he grunted.

"I am not adorable, I am grim and fatalistic," he grumbled.

"Oh yes, you are positively _dreadful_ ," she responded and he shot her a look from the corner of his eye.

"Vhenan," he said in a warning tone. She playfully frowned.

"Oh come on, throw a girl a bone."

"You get entirely too much pleasure out of this."

"Mmm, that's right, you had me _howling_ with pleasure," she wiggled her hips a bit to emphasize her point, but he just groaned at the joke.

"Vhenan, please."

"Oh yes, mmm, Solas. _Woof_ ," she took that cue from Sera and this actually seemed to get a rise out of the sleepy rebel. He was suddenly rolling over so that he was looming over her, a not so serious scowl in place.

"You are not funny," he said as he settled in against her, apparently unable to resist cuddling her some more. _Mmmm._

"Oh on the contrary, my wolfish lover! I am exceptionally funny," she nuzzled him back, also unable to not show any affection to him. Her hand rubbed his back and he grunted appreciatively.

"So master planner, what do we do next?" He asked and she playfully hummed as she contemplated.

"We save our people without destroying the world."

"Mmmm, and where should we go?"

"My gut is saying Tevinter, something is about to go down over in that corner of Thedas, and plus Dorian will be there!"

"Then Tevinter it is."

"My gut is also telling me we should grab a couple of doggy bags from the kitchens before we leave-

"Vhenan! Really?"

"Yes, really! I'm starving! I swear I am going to _wolf down anything on my plate!_ " She laughed freely for the first time in years, and despite the bad jokes at his expense, Solas smiled and kissed her. They would save their people, the world didn't have to die, everything…everything would work out, because of her. His chest swelled with love and light. She was his Hanal'Ghilan, showing him paths he never knew existed. _His chance, everyone's chance._


End file.
